


Purple Death Creeps In (On Little Cat Feet)

by draconicsockpuppet



Category: Dwarf Fortress
Genre: Canon-Typical Crack, Gen, Horror, The Cats Live, The Dwarves Don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 22:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconicsockpuppet/pseuds/draconicsockpuppet
Summary: Cats alone out of all the fortress livestock didn't seem to be affected, and the mayor loved them best – of course she would send Urist to save them.





	Purple Death Creeps In (On Little Cat Feet)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/gifts).

Leyara the Inconsiderate Miseries was a forgotten beast, the only one of its kind. An enormous feathered flatworm, it had a broad iron shell and a gaunt appearance underneath its cover of patchy auburn feathers. Beware its noxious secretions! Leyara was associated with water, disease, and caverns.

These were the legends that the people of Fatalcave had brought with them from the mountainhome. As she carefully washed the mayor's favorite cat Nashon clean of the purple slime on his feet, Urist Glazehill, originally of Syrupscars, reflected on the accuracy, as far as it went – the secretions _were_ noxious. Flesh-melting, in fact. And most of the dwarves of Fatalcave were not in the habit of wearing gloves or socks after the last time the mayor'd thrown a fit and washed the fortress clean of abandoned clothing with a river of lovely, lovely magma.

Perhaps it would work on the purple slime too, but pulling that lever wasn't Urist's job. She'd locked herself in the well room with every cat in the fort, praying to Armok that she'd have enough time to get them all rinsed off before the flesh separated from her bones entirely. Cats alone out of all the fortress livestock didn't seem to be affected, and the mayor loved them best – of course she would send Urist to save them.

Besides, it seemed oddly appropriate that cats would be the only survivors of Fatalcave: cats, and the beast itself, fast asleep down in the brewery stockrooms after rampaging through the militia and drinking most of the fort's prized plump helmet wine.

"You're a good kitty," she told Nashon as she threw him, wet and bedraggled and yowling, into the cage by the well. "Someone will come to let you out eventually."

The mountainhome would have to send a new group to reclaim Fatalcave, and the reclamation party would free the kitties. Hopefully they'd also bring enough weapons and warriors to defeat Leyara – or just wall it into the stockroom while it slept. Nothing important would be lost, beyond corpses, and tablets could always be made to commemorate their sacrifice.

Either way, Urist didn't need to worry about it. The cats would live. That was her job now.

Inod was the last of the bunch, the old mama cat that had been mewing at her side all this time, rubbing her head against Urist's slowly melting leg as she worked. Urist drew up a new bucket of water and began to gently rinse the slime off Inod's beautiful tortoiseshell coat. "Thank you for letting me wash you," Urist slurred. It was getting harder and harder to move through the pain. Inod purred as she carefully, patiently rinsed off each tiny foot.

And then Urist stumbled and fell as her legs gave out. Hopefully that was clean enough; she was out of time.

Inod went in the cage, howling with grief. Urist dragged herself to the door. She was too weak now to open it entirely, but she only had to unlatch the bolt. The cats were safely locked away in their indestructible sanctuary, there to await rescue whenever it arrived.

As to the rest – the mayor would clean up the fort one last time, just as she always did.

Urist cracked open the door and let the magma boil in.


End file.
